


Evolution

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-19
Updated: 2006-01-21
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Post 513, extended fic, NC17 throughout





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian sat on his bed, angry. Not the kind of anger that made him throw Justin and his movies out and not the kind of anger that made him slam his fist into Mikey’s well deserving face. No, this anger was slow, and dull, and *fucking ow* it hurt. 

That little shit had actually packed up and left while Brian had pretended to sleep. Justin ran away, again, after Brian had tried for five fucking years to get the kid to grow some balls and he just fucking walked out the door after staring at Brian’s naked torso for 10 minutes. 

Brian, of course, realized that he could have rolled over and looked him in the eye, but he was under the distinct impression that if that happened he would end up turning into a fucking lesbian, again. Again. Fucking blond twink with his fucking amazing talent. 

Why were all the blonds in his life out to destroy him? He suspected for years that Justin and Lindsay were in cahoots. That when Justin would disappear with a “project” and Lindsay would have some mommy-related occurrence, they would really be sitting around plotting his doom. 

Two joints of spectacular weed in and any theory sounds plausible. 

Brian thought briefly that he should probably actually get up off of his bed and move. Maybe put on clothes. Or he could go trick. Yes. He was Brian Fucking Kinney as Mikey liked to remind him and he could go and get his dick sucked by any little twink that Babylo…Justin…”I love you”…Fucking blonds!

It’s not fair for one’s very well planned, very controlled, very pleasurable life to be turned upside down in one night. And, in the smoky haze, Brian allowed the irony of the streetlight surviving the bomb to soak into his bones. And then he got mad again. His life, his life that he loved, went to hell. Fucking straight (oh ew) to hell in the twinkle of blue eyes. For fuck’s sake, the kid was talking about puking because of Tylenol the first night he met him and now he owned what would make a really good country club and had almost gotten married and…

You know what? Fuck this shit. 

Brian got his ass up out of his bed, pulled on jeans and a tank top, ran a hand through his hair, grabbed his keys and wallet, and was out the door. It was time to hunt down that fucking little shit. Again. Brian flipped open his wallet to make sure that he had enough cash for gas while pondering if he could actually superglue Justin’s feet to the floor of Britin (he’d be nice and set up an easel right in front of him). And goddamnit if he hadn’t stolen Brian’s credit card. Again. 

Subtlety was never Justin’s strong suit.


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: Justin's POV  


* * *

“Doesn’t matter…blah, blah, blah…It’s only time…my fucking ass!” Justin worried his thumbnail between his teeth, seething. Brian had lain there, pretending…PRETENDING to be asleep. And he lectured him on growing some balls? It’s only time? Are you fucking kidding me? 

It was right about this point that Justin’s internal monologue had run out of breath. He had been ranting steadily since he had gotten on the Greyhound…of all the times to think Brian was right and he really *should* have taken a plane. Well fuck Brian and his high and mighty stubborn pig-headedness. 

Justin, being mature, had simply taken his gold card. He had like 5 anyway. And besides, stealing Brian’s credit card had gotten him a particularly sensational fuck last time. Not that he was allowing himself to hope that Brian would come after him again…no…no. He was mature. And level-headed. And not at all stupid and stubborn and pig-headed. Yeah. That. 

But, knowing Brian, he would simply chuck it up to Justin needing a start up fund and pay any bill that came his way. He was aggravating like that. Never says a fucking word about it, just goes along, taking it up the ass from all of his friends and family...er…so to speak. Justin’s internal rant came to a grinding halt as he reflected on the times Brian did actually take it up the ass…yummy. But no! Brian doesn’t get to fuck himself out of this one. Um…worst goodbye lines for $1000, Alex? Time?…Fucker. And now he was on a Greyhound with a stolen credit card leaving the only man he had ever loved because Lindsay told him it was a good idea. That and he wanted to stand on his own two feet, an argument that would be a great deal more convincing was he not holding Brian’s gold card. 

Fucking Lindsay. As lovable as she was, he always suspected there was a bit of latent plotting between Lindsay and Michael. They kept tabs on him much, much too well for there not to be. If Lindsay didn’t show up, Michael did, and usually it was after he had royally screwed Justin over with Brian. 

And for some reason Justin had actually listened. He had finally gotten everything he had ever wanted. Brian, Mr. “I don’t do love” had actually stood in the middle of a fucking palace and told him that he was taking a chance on love for his *Prince*. Prince? What pod person had stolen Brian Kinney’s body? Justin decided his name was something like Ron…or maybe Dan. But the weird thing? Brian meant it. He had transformed in the time Justin had known him, and loved him, and fought with him, and fucked him…and in that very moment when he got everything his 17 year old self would have given a limb for, *God* he was terrified! Justin vaguely remembered reading a quote by someone famous who said something like, “The worst possible thing to experience is getting everything you’ve ever wanted.” Justin thought about how completely fucked up that was, but somehow it was also true. 

In the moment that Brian had turned down that trick, Justin had become petrified that the achingly frustrating man he loved was giving up everything that made him…Brian. And Justin didn’t want their marriage to be a Rest in Peace sign. 

He actually wasn’t all that sure what he wanted, except that it was Brian, and with no rhyme or reason to it. Since that stupid fucking bet everything had moved so fast that it still hadn’t really registered that Brian had actually voiced those three little words that had meant so much to him at one time. The still meant a lot…hell, they meant everything but Justin didn’t know how to reconcile the aching desire to jump off the smelly fucking bus and run back to Brian and the desire to give it a shot on his own. To take a huge risk and be fucking brave and try to make it in the art world…which he could probably do in Pittsburgh. With Brian. At Britin. It made Justin’s face light up with the kind of smile he was famous for while simultaneously rolling his eyes. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, if he and Brian locked themselves into their palace and never resurfaced, if they were away from people’s assumptions and their fucking families good intentions…well they’d probably kill each other after having fucked each other into oblivion but the house was really big so they could retire to their corners and just wait for round three…thousand.


	3. Chapter 3

  
Author's notes: Alternating POV  


* * *

When Justin finally got to his new apartment after dealing with the Greyhound station and a taxi (both of which he seriously considered never doing again), he found Brian perched on the front door step. He was smoking a cigarette, looked exhausted, angry, sad, and Justin wondered how he got more fucking beautiful every day. 

"Sunshine," Brian drawled out, looking at him with heavily lidded-tired eyes. 

Justin just eyed him, and kept his mouth closed. He had the feeling that he was in for a strong berating, at the least. And then he blinked...twice. A slow, dangerous smile spread over his face. Brian felt distinctly nervous. 

"Well. Brian Kinney gives a shit," he said, drawing Brian's attention back to a time when Justin still wore uniforms, "You soooo care about me. You love me soooo much." He was positively giddy. He was tired and punch drunk and had been stuck on a bus. Now his lover was standing directly in front of him, and really, what's a man to do but act like a 6 year old that has just ODed on pixie stix?

Brian kept his stoic mask in place. Inside, for some reason, he had just warmed at least 5 degrees. Whatever it was that had kept him driving like the hounds of hell were following him had morphed into nervous energy while sitting on Justin's steps waiting for him. He had smoked...more than he should have. And tapped his foot. A lot. But in the face of Justin's welcome it all disappeared into a warm calm. It was the kind of feeling that he had on Sundays when he and Justin would just lay in bed, maybe fuck, maybe chat, maybe just be. It was likely to be all three at some point during the morning, and inevitably Justin's stomach would get them up and out of bed, but in those first minutes Brian thought that he may have discovered true Nirvana. 

Now, looking at Justin, he was certain. 

He stood up slowly, and brushed off his jeans just to draw the moment out. Brian Kinney was nothing if not a drama queen. He took the two steps to Justin slowly, invaded his space, invaded his senses but didn't make contact.

"Yeah, I do" he answered with a cocky smirk, "a whole fucking lot actually. Now, give me my fucking gold card back, you little shit."

Justin wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was exhausted or the fact that he was running on pure adrenaline but for a brief second he thought he might be hallucinating. What better way to discover whether or not Brian was real than to push him up against the wall and kiss him like there was no tomorrow? And maybe there wasn't. 

Justin was pretty sure in that moment-when his lips connected to Brian's, when his body slammed into him, feeling him instantly harden-that every tomorrow from then on would be different. They evolved in that kiss, on a street, outside of a shitty apartment building in Brooklyn. As they kissed Justin let Brian's words roll around in his head, he let the fact that Brian was no longer simply acting out his feelings seep into every one of his pores. He realized that the changes he had begun to fear weren't actually Brian slipping away, they were Brian feeling safe. And it made him horny, but it also made him want to grab Brian's hand, race up the stairs to the roof and scream to the world how in love he was. 

 

Brian was on fire. He never really understood why Justin intoxicated him. In the beginning he thought that if he dwelt on it he would be admitting something...that he just couldn't. After a while it became second nature to such an extent that he forgot to care. But it was never this. Never. Not after the fucking prom, not last night, this was something else. Brian felt like he should dwell on this feeling, take the time to analyze it, seek out what it meant. Because this feeling was good and real and he felt...fucking free. After hate and violence and cancer and near marriage Brian and Justin just stood and touched, and Brian felt free. He couldn't prevent the groan that escaped his throat as he ran his fingers into Justin's hair and grabbed a handful of his ass. 

"Well Sunshine, we need to take one more ride."

Justin simply huffed at him. He had developed a distinct hatred for all things motored recently (buses do that) and he really just wanted to find the nearest bed...or ally...and feel Brian slam into him for as long as they both shall...fuck. 

Brian led Justin to the car, hefting one of his duffel bags onto his shoulder. He threw the bags into the trunk of the car and pushed Justin unceremoniously into the passenger seat. 

"I was recently informed that I had changed," Brian began as he slid into his seat. Justin just cringed, "Said individual was correct. I have. And I feel like I need a vacation to deal with all this shit." Justin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't really sure if he should talk, he might start saying "I love you" and never stop. "It will take a long time for me to figure out how to deal with New York, Justin. I'm not moving here and you're not coming home until you fucking try this on. But we'll make those more banal decisions later, right now I'm going to find the nearest *decent* bed and fuck you for a week."

"Yaye," Justin purred, pulling out Brian's gold card and wiggling it in front of his face, "I'll treat."

"Twat," Brian spat out, grinning like a fool. On the evolutionary scale, Brian decided that this was going to be very, very good.


	4. Chapter 4

  
Author's notes: Drabble, porny. :)  


* * *

Justin woke up seconds before he shot down Brian's throat, deep down Brian's throat. The sensation of Brian swallowing around the head of his cock sent him hard over the edge of his favorite cliff. Moments later Brian's head popped up with a satisfied grin. He swooped down on Justin, kissing him hard, swirling his tongue and Justin's taste all around their mouths. 

It was ironic to Justin that after 5 years with Brian Kinney he still didn't believe it was possible for him to come that hard and that often. It occured to him as they lay there, tangled together, Brian's head resting in the crook of Justin's neck that Brian may be trying to kill him with sex. It would be a very Brian punishment...come to think of it, it would be a very Justin death. Fucked to death by Brian Kinney. That should be on his headstone, Justin thought tersely.

With a wry grin he snaked his left hand over Brian's flank, up his smooth back and into his brown locks. He took a handful and yanked back hard, rolling Brian to the side so that he was on top. Brian's groan signaled his ravenous hunger for Justin. This thing had possessed him. He felt like he could happily drown in him. Justin stared at him for a few minutes, stretching out the tension, feeling Brian's hard cock pressing angrily into his lower abdomen. "I'm not going alone" Justin whispered, mischief shining from his face. "...the fuck?" was all that Brian managed before Justin began to nip gently at the tip of Brian's dick, touching him in just *that* way, that way that cut off all coherent thought and made his eyes roll back in his head. 

What a way to go.


	5. Chapter 5

  
Author's notes: The boys talk.  


* * *

Brian and Justin had been talking for hours. About everything. The walls had finally crumbled between them and they were playing get-to-know-you on equal footing. They had pretty much fucked themselves out some point mid evening on the second day (for the moment) and Justin had turned the tables on Brian once he had asked for his gold card back for the 500th time. 

"What did you really come for Brian?" Justin looked a little scared, but it was one of Justin's tells that only Brian could see. He had the stony look on his face that he had had when determined to say "I love you" to Brian even though he knew he would get nothing in response. Brian scoffed at the question, but Justin just kept looking at him. It was his obligatory scoff, the true and permanent remnants of the "I don't do..." fill-in-the-blank Brian. 

"You stole my credit card, asshole." Brian wasn't going to cave this time, after all, he had driven to New York and sat on Justin's steps for *hours* (47 minutes to be exact, but that was also something Justin would never know). Justin just kept staring, it was his counterpoint to Brian's scoff, just as there, just as ubiquitous. 

Brian sighed, not in annoyance, just because he couldn't really come up with the appropriate slogan to cover this campaign. It was his life and though he was certain that Justin had become an unhealthy obsession, he was an expert at unhealthy, yet deeply satisfying habits. 

Justin let Brian think, he could see the words starting to form, knew instinctively that Brian was composing in his head, getting ready to load his brush with his own form of paint and tackle the living canvas next to him. In all likelihood it would be a Pollack and not a Rembrandt, but Justin loved Brian's directness almost as much as his ability to be obtuse. Brian was drifting back, his mind had latched firmly onto the "I don't do love" mantra that he had chanted so many times that everyone around him had clung to it long after he had let it go. 

When Justin had come back during the fiddler-fuck-phase to fight Brian about his tuition, Brian wanted nothing more than to scream at Justin to read between the lines, but he didn't understand it himself. He just wanted to be around Justin, he wanted him, but he wanted other things too and in the fashion of a skilled and habitual hedonist, he had sought his pleasure. He was new at this goddamnit! and Justin was supposed to see that. But he hadn't, he had been listening to Brian's friends sing the Piper's tune of how one should be treated in a relationship. Brian had pondered at the time just how many Stepford-fags there were in the Pitts. He half expected tricks to start withholding sex in the backroom. 

Brian kept staring into Justin's blue eyes, just looking at him, looking into him. What was he doing there? It was a good question. "I want you" he said simply. "I'm not sure what to do to keep you...this...whatever, but I want it and I'm not giving up on it just because of this distance."

Justin wanted to throw the "time" line back in his face but he knew that if he asked him about it directly that Brian would close down on him, so he decided to tuck that one away for a more coherent time in which to be witty. He nodded, confirming Brian's statement, "I don't think either of us know exactly where to go from here." Brian nodded in return.

It was beautifully simple in it's complexity. They both wanted each other and a life together. They both knew it would be there at some point in the near future. How to get there? That's the question. Justin knew deep down that he needed to grow up. "New York isn't actually about art, you know." Justin wanted Brian to understand that he needed equality. He didn't want to be "Boy Wonder" ever again.

"What the fuck is it about then?" Brian sensed it, it was the same feeling he'd had when Justin turned down Art Director at Kinnetik, let the boy be a man on his own first and then he'll finally stay. Then Brian could stop doubting his every move and relax into the relationships continuing existence. 

"Actually following through," Justin said. "I need to finish something, succeed or not, I just need to finish. So here's the deal. I am going to work my ass off for the next six months and do as much work as I can. I'm going to peddle my ass and my art at ever gallery I can find. Hell, I'll fucking start with the contacts Lindsay gave me. After six months, we, together, you and I, sit down and have this conversation again, figure out where we are together and where we are apart and then we make the choice together about what *we* are going to do."

"Try to get another 'we' in there, Sunshine," Brian smiled at him, liking that plan quite a bit actually. 

"Shut up." Justin wanted to be deadly serious because this had to hit Brian square between the eyes or he wouldn't get it, "But, if you think for one second that you get to play the martyr and throw yourself into work and tricks and never see me, I swear to fucking god I will kill you myself. You will see me, here, away from the people who interfere in our lives constantly, so that for the first time in 5 years we will be able to spend time as just Brian and just Justin, where the only preconceptions are our own."

Brian was filled to the brim with pride for his boy. His smile had slowly faded over the course of Justin's tirade because he *got* it. He really truly sensed that *this* was right. He put his hand on Justin's cheek and leaned into him, resting their foreheads together gently, never closing his eyes. 

Justin realized in that moment that the entire course of their future just solidified itself. The evolutionary process they had started when Justin had kissed him on the street had just found purchase. And now, even though there was still no real plan, they had a safe haven in which to become *them* and they had the safety net of relying on each other. 

Brian sighed and finally let his eyes drift closed. This was it, this is what it was supposed to feel like.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Author's notes: Warning: PORN and Top!Justin  


* * *

Normally, after anything even remotely emotional, Brian and Justin would engage in an intense bout of fucking to erase the stain of sloppy sentiment. This time, however, it was different. Brian slowly explored Justin’s mouth with his tongue; he ran the tip of his tongue over the roof of his mouth and behind his teeth. Justin was content to let Brian lead, momentarily. Soon he turned the tables, shifting so that Brian was on his back. Hell, Brian wanted to really do this long distance thing, he might as well give him the fuck of his life. Hmmm…Brian’s ass was so his. 

Brian opened his eyes when Justin’s mouth stopped moving over his skin. He glanced up and his breath caught in his throat. Shit. His ass was so going to be Justin’s right now. He gave up trying to fight Justin’s latent topping instinct a long time ago, partially because he seemed to have gotten Brian’s need to be fucked timed to a science and partially because Justin was fucking good.

Justin saw the look of surrender and need in Brian’s eyes and expected it to be replaced with the typical dose of defiance at any point. Brian was uber-stud and one must be good and reminded of that both before and after any topping that may occur. Justin’s cock stared to drip as he remembered Brian’s hand coming down, palm open, repeatedly on Justin’s ass as he slammed into him after one particular fuck in which Justin actually elicited an outright yell as he angled for Brian’s prostate. Justin continued to explore Brian’s face as he teased his fingers over the skin on his torso, but all he saw was need. He grew impossibly harder when he realized that this once, Brian was just giving himself over to Justin and Justin was up for the challenge. 

He attacked Brian full force, crushing the breath out of his lungs as his body descended, his hand grabbing his turgid cock as his mouth slammed into Brian’s. Brian’s eyes widened, he knew he was in for one hell of a fuck tonight. Justin stroked Brian’s dick hard, maintaining pressure and twisting his fist at the head, stimulating the ridge just under Brian’s leaking slit. He moved his body down Brian’s and took his entire cock into his mouth at once, swallowing around the head, giving Brian no time to breathe as his orgasm was forced out of his body. His mind went white as a screamed a stream of obscenities and endearments, serving to incite Justin even more. 

Before Brian could recover, before he opened his eyes, Justin was forcing his legs apart and high to the side, running his tongue over his clenching hole repeatedly, getting him wet and ready. Brian went into overload. The only coherent thought he remembered, much later, driving back to the Pitts the next week was that at some point Justin Taylor would be the death of him. His heart hammered in his chest as blood began to fill his dick once more, painful and unbelievable at the same time. Justin began to twist two fingers into Brian’s ass, pressing, demanding entrance; needing to be inside of him so badly he couldn’t see clearly. He worked from pure instinct, operating for the knowledge that 5 years worth of exploring the man’s body had given him. It was almost an id impulse at this point, buried deep within Justin’s subconscious. He was certain that if he was shipwrecked on an island alone for 50 years, he would still now how to work Brian’s body once reunited. 

Brian groaned under him as Justin pushed a third finger inside of him, scissoring gently, thrusting hard, brushing his prostate on ever third stroke. He lifted up, resting Brian’s long legs over his shoulders and hurriedly seeking a condom. He rolled the condom onto his dick and scooting closer to Brian on his knees, entered him in one long thrust. Brian’s moan filled the room as Justin began to slam into him, flicking his hips, angling and rotating, never letting Brian get used to the rhythm. 

Brian gripped the headboard of the bed and opened his eyes, awed by the beauty of the man above him. Still Justin stared at him; he felt like his entire life had been spent looking into those eyes and as the sweat dripped down Justin’s torso, panting and thrusting, Brian felt absolved. In the moment he was totally wrapped up in the fucking, in the pure sensation of Justin, Brian couldn’t separate the fact that this was real and tangible, even if it looked like a dream he should have been having all of his life. Yet again his orgasm crashed over him, and it was only then that he realized that Justin had been running his hand over his dick repeatedly. Justin followed within seconds, shouting out his name, staring into his hazel eyes. 

His body collapsed on top of Brian, and they both fell asleep, sated. 

What felt like hours later, Brian stirred, warm and squashed into the mattress under Justin’s deceptively lithe frame. He was as heavy as a sack of potatoes when he slept but Brian had no intention of disturbing him. They wreaked of sweat and sex, cum was stuck to their skin. They were dirty and smelt and Brian revealed in the feeling. His mind snapped awake as something occurred to him about Justin’s six-month plan. His suggestion spurred something in Brian that truly chilled him and as he lay there, quietly on the bed, his brain went into overdrive. 

Once the open fear had passed, Brian got angry. How could his mind play him like that, fuck him over with a couple of words? No. Brian would not allow that thought to seep into his blood, crawl through his body and permeate every pour. 

Unless…

Just then, Justin stirred and awakened, lifting his head and grinning at him. He slowly untangled their limbs and climbed off the bed to dampen a towel and clean them. As he walked out of the bathroom, he was surprised to see Brian sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, alert and eyebrows furrowed. 

“Wh…?” Justin started to say but Brian just held up a hand to stop him. 

He was silent for a few moments more, battle raging inside of him because, this, this thought was NOT him. He wanted to vomit at the mere idea of saying anything but it was like he had no control of his own body. “Look, there are a couple of disclaimers that you have to listen to here before you say ANYTHING. I have no idea why I’m thinking about this but you are forbidden to queen out in front of me. If you queen out I will immediately retract this idea and call you the liar that you are if you ever mention it.”  
Justin just looked at him. What the fuck? “Ok.”

“Ok. Condition two is that you understand that this does NOT mean that we are going to do it forever, nor does it mean bullshit hearts and flowers or some kind of hetero fucking load of shit.”

“Um…Brian?”

“What?”

“Fucking spit it out you big fucking queen.”

Brian just arched his eyebrow at him, “Fine. Ok look…I was thinking about this six month thing…” and Justin’s stomach dropped into his pinky toe, “and I think we should amend the agreement slightly.”

Oh holy fuck. Right, so now Brian wouldn’t want to see him, now Brian would run, he chose fucking now. So much for evolution. 

“Not that you fucking princess, I just…well…it’s that, while we were…ithoughtmaybesincewehadsixmonthsanywaywemightaswellwaitanddoitrightandthenwecouldthinkaboutdoingitraw.”

Justin looked at Brian like a bird had just landed on his head. “You’ll have to run that last part by me again.”

Brian groaned, took a deep breath and said, “Fine. I said, since we have six months anyway we might as well fucking want and fucking give it a try and we could think about…you know…doing it raw, just us, if the tests are clear.”

“An alien took over your body didn’t it?” Justin stared at him in wide-eyed mystification, “A fucking alien came down, thought you were hot, crawled into your body and ate your brain. I fucking knew it.”

“Justin, this is teetering dangerously on the edge of a queen out. You need to take a step back. I was just thinking it might be fun. It doesn’t mean we’ll always be monogamous, but I’ve never done it and you’ve never done it, and since I’ve done everything else…fuck it, why not? If we fuck up, we fuck up, but we’re honest with each other. What do you think?”

“I think this is exactly what scared me when you proposed. I think this is what made me feel like I didn’t know you. I think…I, I think…actually, I think it may be the best fucking idea you’ve ever had. I just can’t believe that you’re the one that brought it up.” 

“Beats the fucking Chinese daisies.”

“Fuck off, asshole.”

“Oh, I plan to, your asshole is mine,” he said, his eyes twinkling.


End file.
